I could have been Alexader Supertramp.  A couple of different decisions and circumstances and I could have been just like him, striking out on my own to the West.  Just to see.  Just to explore.  Just to experience the landscape and satisfy my wandering soul.

 Years ago I read the article, Into the Wild, in Outside Magazine by John Krakaur, who lives just a few miles from me in Boulder, Colorado.  I then read Krakaur’s book of the same title.  And, last night I saw the movie.  It is a story that connects deeply with me.  For underneath the surface of my suburban life, just barely underneath, is a wanderlust something fierce.

 Wanderlust.  When I was a kid, about 11 or 12 years old (still a time when we rode our bikes without helmets on, and parents didn’t put their offspring into a protective bubble at all times) I used to try to ride my bike to the mountains from north Denver.  I had no knowledge of maps.  I just knew I wanted to go west, into those mountains that I loved so much.  Each block I went west the mountains got closer and I felt more free, more exhilerated. 

I never made it past the barrier of Hwy 36, the Boulder Turnpike, just down the road from where Mr. Krakaur now lives.  But, by the time I got there I could see individual pine trees on the ridgetops of the foothills.  I could almost smell the pine needles.  I could almost hear the clear water rippling over freestone creekbeds.  I gazed into those mountains wanting to go further just for the sake of going further.

 As I aged, the intensity of this exhileration faded.  Distances were shortened when behind the wheel of my car and the mystery of it all faded with the onset of my adult knowledge.  But, it’s still there.  There is still a primal urge to strike out into the unknown, break the shackles of structured life, burn the mortgage statements, sit under the sun and the stars, go wherever looks interesting.  No plan, no maps, no fear.

 I even shared a fascination of Alaska with Mr. Supertramp.  The last American frontier.  The last true American wilderness.  This is where wanderlust for us American kids who love The West and the mountains naturally leads.  The ultimate freedom.

 Yes, I could have been Alexander Supertramp. 

But, perhaps my destiny is more like that of Edward Abby.  Abby freed his wandering soul while also keeping a fingernail grasp on his family, his home, his relationships.   Yes, maybe like Abby, who roamed the deserts and the mountains for days or weeks, then returned home to dream about his next walk in the desert, his next float down the river.

I want to go to West today.